


Something Like This

by RadioCybertron



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I can't believe that was an actual tag, In which Reaper has sharp teeth and is a hangry asshole until he eats first, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Two old assholes sitting and talking things out, Warm feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioCybertron/pseuds/RadioCybertron
Summary: Cairo's always been that place that's held an odd place in Jack's heart. But, hell. It IS Date night.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Something Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accelgors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accelgors/gifts).



> I can't promise anything good. First time posting here in almost three years.

The sunsets in Cairo are _always_ spectacular. 

He sits at the edge of the Greater pyramid, legs dangling off the side of old limestone and polished granite. A bottle, half full of whiskey lingers between his legs as smoke curls lazily in grey whorls from the cigarette in his fingers. There’s silence at the moment as he appreciates the spectacle that his fading eyes can see. 

Black at his back in fractal patterns like old children’s puzzle books and optical illusions, a lightning strike of pellet wounds branching upwards.

A lover’s touch, _really_ \- if he’s honest with himself as he is so rarely these days, and he’s too tired to care about lying about plausible deniability these days. 

So, rough honesty it is.

It’s nearly nightfall when the other man arrives in a cloud of purple twilight and half-starshine. He doesn’t know how the other’s nanites manage to catch the residual city lights from the horizon just so, but he’d be lying if didn’t say he wasn’t enchanted. A faint smell of something halal and delicious, still steaming from a street vendor no doubt. He chuckles as the falafel balls in their paper wrappers are presented to him, the cool yogurt with its dill for dipping to one side.   
  
“Didn’t know this was gonna be a date night.”   
  
A grunt, and soft whispering sigh as the other man settles beside him. Gabriel’s never been the best conversationalist before the first bite, and it appears that Reaper is no better. The old soldier waits as sharp teeth make short work of the first set of fried mouthfuls before speaking.   
  
“Saw you out here. Thought you hadn’t eaten, not with that bottle between your legs.”   
  
One leather-clad shoulder shrugs- and he hums, putting it to one side.   
  
“Guilty enough.”   
  
No reason to argue, or refute it- as the former Blackwatch Commander knows hims him well enough to have the right of it. The first bite releases the steam and the moist chickpea interior with its spices. He’s thankful for Ana and her introduction of her foods into the Strike team or he’d never have gotten a taste for this. A soft moan of appreciation gathers a quick, toothy grin from the black-clad mercenary to his left.

And for a moment, it’s just the two of them- the horizon, and a dinner shared on a relic older than their past grievances. 

After this, they’ll break apart again- go back to their relative tasks. Gabriel’ll go back to being Reaper and taking down Talon from the inside out. He’ll work with Sombra to feed Jack information, and the soldier will work from the outside chew at the foundation like a rat. They’ll go back to playing cats and dogs, at each other’s throats in an effort to go for the jugular.

Only to pick each other back up every single time- hand wrapped around wrist in a warrior’s and lover’s grip. 

For now, they’ll finish their dinner and lace their fingers together. The stars will dot the darkened sky as the lights in Cairo brighten on the horizon, to rival their brilliance. 

And their wedding rings will gleam golden against their chest— a pair of miniature suns catching the moon’s rays to shine another day.


End file.
